


Thunderstorms

by TheTwoFlamingos, tinyPsycho77



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Comfort Sex, F/M, Fear, Phobias, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwoFlamingos/pseuds/TheTwoFlamingos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyPsycho77/pseuds/tinyPsycho77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red is scared of thunderstorms and Lizzie is there to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during a thunderstorm (cause I'm totally terrified of them) I would like to throw a huge thank you to my wonderful BETA abeautifulmessofcontradictions.

He hated thunderstorms.

The glass was warm under his palm, giving him a slight feeling of comfort. The fire before him was slowly dwindling down but he couldn’t bring himself to open the front door to retrieve more wood.

_There’s no way in hell I’m going outside in...that._

To most people, thunderstorms were no big deal, just another way for Mother Nature to take out her frustration on the human race, but to him they were distressing.

He added another two fingers of scotch to his empty glass. _This is going to be a bad one._ He tried to drown out the sounds of the tantrum going on outside.

“Red?”

Her voice was so soft and caring, a distinct contrast from the crackling thunder outside, that he almost didn’t hear her.

“Lizzie, what are you doing up?” He turned to look at her, trying to mask the anxiety building inside him.

Liz padded across the living room, lowering herself onto the couch and scooting close to him. “You weren’t there. You know I can’t sleep without you.”

He gave her a small smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her even closer to him.

She laid her head on his shoulder, her hand absentmindedly picked invisible flecks of lint from his night shirt. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He brought the crystal rock glass to his lips and tipped back a generous swallow of scotch.

Liz’s brow furrowed deeply at the level of liquor in the glass. She flattened her hand over his chest and felt his heart punch rapidly against her palm.

“Red, talk to me; what’s wrong?”

He dropped his eyes to her face, his lips upturning in a sad half smile. Of course she knew something was wrong with him, she always knew. Avoidance wasn’t an option; she’d get the truth from him one way or another and he didn’t really feel like arguing with her.

He took a deep breath before sharing a story that no one knew.

“When I was seven, my mom was rushing out of the house and I guess she forgot I was playing in the backyard because she locked the door. It wasn’t until the first drops of rain that I even noticed.” His gaze slid back to the warmth of the fireplace. “I was fine until the thunder began; that first deafening crack scared me so badly that I wet myself. I could have gone to the neighbor's house but I was paralyzed with fear.”

Liz raked her nails gently up and down the base of his skull as she tried to envision a seven year old Red in sneakers, shorts and a t-shirt playing in a sandbox. “Where was your dad?”

“Passed out drunk on the couch, as usual.” The venom in his tone was proof that this wasn’t something he’d ever let go. “The storm lasted three hours; I was out there for two and a half. By the time my mom found me I was soaked to the bone, crying in the corner of the porch.”

A roll of thunder shook the room, jolting Red from his walk down bad memory lane, the warm amber liquid sloshing over the lip of his glass onto his hand.

Liz moved quickly, yanking a kleenex from its box.

“This is ridiculous!” The frustration in his voice made her head snap up.

“What’s ridiculous?”

He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’m 56 years old, an ex-Naval Officer, my god, I’m number four on the FBI’s most wanted list! I can kill a man and not lose a wink of sleep, yet I’m _terrified_ of thunderstorms.”

Liz resisted the urge to smile. “Red, you had a very traumatic experience at such a young age. It’s completely understandable that you would still be wary of thunderstorms. Did you ever go talk to someone about it?”

He tossed back the remaining alcohol and dropped his glass onto the table. “No, every time my mom mentioned it to my dad, he would just laugh and tell me to man up.”

Another obnoxious crack of thunder echoed around them, this one louder than its predecessor, causing Red to jerk violently.

Her heart broke a little at the fear etched across his handsome features. She knew just the thing to take his mind off the storm. Liz slid into his lap quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck and fusing their mouths together.

Red’s hands went to her waist of their own accord; he parted his lips when he felt her tongue sweep across them, a low moan emanating from his chest as she invaded his mouth.

Liz pressed her body close to his, so close that she was sure they would meld together. Her body rocked against him, her own moan mixed with his when she felt his hands slip under her sheer top, sliding up her ribcage. She broke the kiss long enough to allow him to remove her shirt.

Red pushed her back to look at her. “Lizzie…”

Her stomach tightened at the heated look in his eyes, goosebumps prickling on her skin. The storm raged on outside but it was a fleeting pattern of rain, thunder, and lighting to the two souls in front of the fireplace.

Liz trailed her hands down the front of Red’s shirt, slipping her fingers past the hem, her nails gently raking through the hair covering his belly. A smiled graced her features when he groaned and bucked under her.

“Lizzie, let’s go to bed.”

Her shoulder length brown hair swished back and forth across her face. “No, Red, make love to me here, please.”

Her hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up over his head, letting it drop somewhere behind the couch.

Red twisted his body, laying her flat out on the soft leather sectional. A boisterous crack of thunder filled the silent room, yet Red didn’t hear it; he was solely focused on the beauty beneath him. He leaned down and kissed her gently, lovingly, passionately. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss, showing her just how much he loved her.

He broke the kiss, trailing his tongue down the smooth column of her neck, dipping his tongue in her suprasternal notch.

Liz raked her nails up and down his sides, getting closer to the waistband of his sweatpants with each pass. She bucked her hips upwards, wanting, needing, to feel him.

Red dropped wet, open-mouthed kisses down the valley between her breasts, feeding off her sighs of pleasure, his own need straining uncomfortably against the confines of his boxer-briefs. He slid a hand up, cupping one breast while his mouth latched onto the other. He gently sucked her nipple into his mouth, rubbing his thumb across the other.

“Mmm, Red.”

He shifted, pulling her other nipple into his mouth. His fingers teased the hem of her shorts, sliding the thin fabric down her legs. He swiftly moved off her, snatching the shorts in his grip and shucking the remaining garment off her body.

“Lose the pants, Red.” Liz’s voice stopped him from advancing on her.

He threw her a lopsided grin and peeled the rest of his clothes off his body. He snagged the thin cashmere blanket from the lounge and settled between her legs, draping it over them.

Liz hooked her ankles on his calves, pulling him closer. Her nails dug into his scalp; she jerked his head up and attacked his throat with her lips. Her tongue lapped at his Adam's apple before traveling to his ear. She ran her tongue around the shell and suckled on the lobe, eliciting a deep moan from him.

"Lizzie..."

His lips found hers once more and she felt the rush of arousal spread through her body as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She bucked forward, rubbing her heat against his erection and he caved.

Latching onto her neck, he gripped himself and positioned the tip of his cock against her, slowly feeding her inch after inch of his hard length. He heard her familiar groan and smiled, watching the pleasure wash over her face. He felt her legs tighten around him, begging him to move faster, harder. He could taste the sweat on her neck as she meet him thrust for thrust.

She clung to him. One hand held his head fast to her neck while the other clawed at his shoulder blades. Her hand slid across his back, feeling the thin layer of sweat that now coated them both and gripped his ass, urging him on.

“Ray, please…faster, please…so close.”

He sped up, drawing almost completely out of her before slamming back in. He felt her muscles contract around him and quickened his strokes even more, feeling his climax approaching quickly.

His name tore from her throat in a hoarse cry as her release ripped through her body. The feeling of her inner walls contracting around him and the warmth of her juices coating him triggered his own orgasm. Her name fell from his lips, a tortured prayer. His arms gave up and he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.

They stayed like that for long moments, their breathing slowly returning to normal.

He moved to roll off her but she tightened her legs around him. "Stay."

"I'm too heavy, Lizzie." He pushed himself up, looking at her.

"You’re fine, Red. Besides, I like you being this close."

“Compromise.”

He kissed her gently, staying put for a few more moments before finally shifting off of her. Their sighs in sync as he slowly slipped out of her, savoring that long, last glide of flesh. Quickly he pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin, getting as close to her as he possibly could and repositioned the blanket over them.

A crack of thunder reverberated around the room and Liz snuggled against him, preemptively trying to comfort him. Her hand smoothed down his shoulder and across the length of his arm, her fingers pressing soothingly into muscle.

“You okay, Red?”

His eyes closed over the top of her head as he focused on the scent and feel of her in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the vanilla shampoo she had used earlier that morning. “I am.”

He held her awhile longer, treasuring the flutter of her lashes against his chest. He felt the deep-rooted, decades-old tension begin to loosen in his chest as she comforted him. She was a balm to his tortured soul in so many ways.

“You know, I think I can brave thunderstorms from now on.”

“Oh?”

“As long as you keep, _distracting_ me.”

She chuckled against his chest. “I can definitely do that!”

He smiled against her hair, tightened his arms around the love of his life, and fell asleep during a thunderstorm for the first time in fifty years.


End file.
